A Tale of Woman, Man, and Ramen
by Gravism
Summary: The tale of how billionaire Tokugawa heir met the love of his life through a bowl of ramen. A modern AU story of Ieyasu and his historically most beloved concubine.
1. I quit

Welcome! This piece is dedicated to Ieyasu- the honest, righteous young man I grew fond of as the series progressed.

**Three things:**

1) This is intended to be a cheerful, casual, FICTIONAL narrative as opposed to its somber, melodramatic predecessor. So fun and light-hearted I will attempt! It may not be EPIC, but it should be FUN.

2) Teen rating now, Mature rating later- because I'm treading deeper waters with this piece and I don't want ensuing ligation. It's ironically more difficult to write than my former work.

3) Lady Saigo was a concubine of Tokugawa Ieyasu. Historical portrayal of their relationship is very different from the usual "arranged marriage" approach, and so inspired countless hours of planning and cranking of imagination cogs. She is an OC here and not intended in anyway to be historically accurate to the actual Saign no Tsubone.

My second fanfiction- yay! This is a story I want to read- I hope you do as well

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**CH 1: I quit**

* * *

I quit my job.

That's right, in this day and age with fluctuating stock markets, inflated inelastic demands and escalating standards of living in Japan- I QUIT my job.

A sigh against the gray skies. The smell of gingko and willow leaves in the park.

It is not a smart decision, I concede, but I had to. The firm recruited over thirty people and ushered them all on to my floor. Granted, more than three-quarters of their positions will be terminated in a month, but I had to get out of there- it was suffocating!

The aroma of miso wafts down the small cobblestone path I decided to take last minute. It's the sight of bamboo yatai, nestled in a gingko alcove at the end of a winding road that makes it a safe haven. It's a hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere even if I say so myself, but during my university years of searching in Tokyo I can confidently say this place has the best ramen. No one else in this densely populated city seems aware of it though- the place is literally empty all the time, but I prefer it that way.

I smile grimly, rounding up to the tiny food joint. I sincerely hope dinner tonight will assuage the pain of resume-writing and job-hunting tomorrow.

Ieyasu just finished his final lap in the Koshikawa Botantical Garden when the humble food stand caught his eye.

A nonchalant shrug later, he jogs towards it, the squeaking of his trainers against the moist earth. A snack after work out seems fair. He could not say no to ramen, and after a precautionary pull of his bright yellow hoodie over his head, ambles over to the counter.

"Irasshaimase!" The chef calls out the customary greeting.

The younger man waits for a response, and after deciding it was safe when the chef returns immediately to his tasks at hand, finally seats himself. He wasn't sure if the man had taken a glance at him, but all is well.

He orders himself Shoyu ramen. Typical- yes. Understated? No. The balance of Shoyu in the broth had to be just right. Too much and it becomes too salty and undermines taste of the chashu. Too little and it becomes bland and does nothing to compliment the other ingredients. He will find out in a moment.

His order came faster than he expected.

A pre-emptive sip of the broth.

"Hn", he rolls remnants of the soup base off his taste buds.

Better than most, but the collaboration of ingredients is not quite there…

"Ano," he waves to the Chef, a portly man in his forties with a towel tied around his forehead, "do you have any ginger?"

The older man gives him a look.

"Ah, I always have it with ramen," the Tokugawa heir replies, scratching back of his head.

With a grunt, the chef lumbers towards the back, disappearing between blue pieces of noren.

As soon as the man is out of sight, Ieyasu does a quick survey of the coast before vaulting over the counter. He lands like a cat, holds for any response, before plucking out chopsticks to swish away at yellow noodles. It may not be ethical. It may not be courteous, but if he was going to eat, it was better this way.

"Irasshaimase, shoyu ramen onegaishimasu" the young lady mutters, plopping on to her seat before the ramen counter. Her eyes fixated on her lap, with shoulders drawn down.

Ieyasu glances at her fallen expression, quirking an eyebrow.

What the…

"I had a tough day," she supplies, as if reading his mind. Eyes still on the ground.

"Oh?" More out of small talk than intrigue. He measures out shoyu on a bowl.

"I quit my office job," she groans, banking forehead onto folded arms. "Yes, I pushed papers like a machine, but don't get me wrong- it wasn't a bad job. But the problem is that it's over-crowded."

He sips from a spoon. Almost there- needs a little sake and then scallion garnish later to balance it out. "That sounds like bad news."

If Ieyasu was cooking up a storm, she would not know. "Yes, so now I am jobless and I have to look for another soon…I wonder if I can manage to pay rent this month," she grumbles, drowning in her own misery.

Ieyasu manages to pour the final product of his labor over a bowl of ramen when he hears shuffling from the back.

Damn it.

With an adroit flick of the wrist, he hops over the counter, slipping back into his seat just as the elder man exits.

The young lady cranes her head up. "Is my ramen ready?" Her frustration aggravated by hunger.

The chef bows with a brusque apology before resuming his station by the stove. Ieyasu mindlessly slurps his mediocre noodles as the chef meets the other bowl of Shoyu ramen with a puzzled expression.

"WELL?" She frowns, fingers tapping on the wooden counter.

"Ah, sumimasen!" He nods and hands over the steaming bowl with chopsticks.

The young lady takes a deep, uninhibited, LOUD slurp, and Ieyasu turns away to hide his grin when she compliments the chef.

The poor man could only nod and sweatdrop at the undue glory he received. Or maybe he had made it but his memory eluded him. His wife had always said the years were catching up to him.

"Go-chiso sama!" She inclines her head as per custom after meals.

Ieyasu beams inwardly underneath his hoodie. The sudden vibration in his pocket, snapping him out of his reverie.

A frown on her face when she reaches into her pocketbook. The sad realization followed by an apology.

"I am sorry but the last five-hundred yen I had, I gave to a man today in the park on my way here," she bowed, head at the height of her hip.

The young man answers his phone, more out of necessity than interest.

"That is a problem," the chef deadpans, arms crossing into a fold.

Ieyasu mutters a few words before pocketing the small device. He had seen a man in rags on a bench downing a hamburger on his way here.

Her head still down.

"If you will allow it, I will go to my bank right now and get you the money. It will only take-"

Enough. He's heard it all.

"Oji-san, I am finished too," the youth announced with grin. He stood, reaching into his trouser pocket. "Here's what I have- keep the change. It will cover this young lady's share too."

Her jaw dropped. "What? No, no! It's fine. I can-"

The honk of a car from the main road of the garden.

"Shinpai shinaide," he smiles at her, before heading over to his ride.

She didn't even have time to protest before he ran off.

He waves to her before jogging away.

"You've had a tough day. My treat."

* * *

Shinpai shinaide: don't worry about it.

Yatai: Japanese food stands

Noren: short curtains, Japanese dividers between doorways.

**NOTE: **Had fun? I've always wanted to write modern AU, but I don't know how to feel about this. Hopefully, the first chapter is interesting :D


	2. I restart, return

Hola! I love writing this easy and fun piece. A break from the sombre and melodramatic predecessor. Let's just have fun.

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Chapter 2: I restart, return

* * *

Japan is a country with millions of people, but it's ironic how it is truly so…small. Two weeks later I am at the Ramen shop again, only to encounter the same young man. I order shoyu ramen again and the chef gives me a dubious glance before going about to fulfill the order.

He sits at the other end of the counter, slurping away at his ramen. Our eyes meet.

"Yo," he waves.

"Ah, hello!" I spring from my chair and bow in gratitude. "Thank you for -"

"Think nothing of it," the young man replies with a boyish grin belying his age.

The chef places my order before me and I hesitantly take a seat.

"The ramen here is quite good," he comments, draining his bowl, "do you come here often?"

"Well, I do…"

That is how it started. One benign question after another, leading to laughter- bursting with agreement. I think I spoke more than I ate. Not that I care, but by the time I finish my ramen I find out he's the athletic type who runs exclusively at night to avoid the daytime rush hour and heat.

"Haha, but why is your hoodie yellow?"

Sounds rude, but I am dying to know who would wear a bright, flashing yellow?

He gazes into the horizon, and after much deliberation comes up with a reply. "Pedestrian safety," he winks, reaching for his wallet only to find it missing.

"Huh…I guess I was in a hurry." He scratches the back of his head, much to the dismay of the chef. His wife had warned him of dine and dash customers but he didn't listen. Then again maybe she had not- he can't remember.

For the second time I spring up from my seat. "Daijoubou desu." I assure him with a smile. "I'll buy," and before he can protest, "I started my new job last week. No worries."

He pauses for a moment, before nodding in acquiescence.

"It's a good job," I continue, handing over the cash, "an office job in the city. Still pushing papers but I work inside this large tower with a lot of lights, glass and steel…"

I stop. That's enough blabbering for one day. He's probably bored out of his mind. Why did I tell him anyway?

"Your new job," he begins, one hand on chin, "what do you make of it?"

Nani? What is he asking- as in how I FEEL about my new job?

It's my turn to stare into space.

No one has ever asked me how I feel about my positions. Not even my parents. They applaud me. It is difficult to secure a lucrative occupation in this society. In terms of job competition and standard of living, Tokyo ranks one of the highest in the world.

"It is…" I sigh, my shoulders loosen, "…everything I never wanted in a career, but the pay is good considering I'm out of university less than 2 years."

"You are not from here," he observed, sitting up from his slouched position.

Sharp, very sharp- that is all I can say.

"I came to Tokyo because that is where the jobs are," my laugh as pitiful and ironic as my statement.

"You should do what interests you," the young man smiles. His gaze as even as an untouched lake.

It's my turn to smile, for real. I place my chopsticks down. "Are you suggesting I flee Tokyo, the economic capital of Japan, to start a ramen business in the boondocks?"

"You like ramen," that persistent, infectious smile, even as he silences the vibrating phone he plucks from his pocket.

"You don't?" I counter with a flash of my own pearly whites.

The roaring of an engine in the distant as he gets up.

"Thank you for tonight," he says before heading out, but not before giving me that infectious boyish grin again.

* * *

How was it?

SilverStarlightXD : thank you for your input. that's exactly why I think OCs can be so challenging to create and merge with established characters. I'm not too fond of this OC but let's see where she takes us :)


	3. I focus, I find

I will be away for a while, for details please see notes from Iris. Thank you for your understanding.

This chapter is special for me. There is ALWAYS time to slow down, tune down superficial needs, smell the flowers, hold the hands that held ours and bask in beauty. Life is too short to do otherwise. Have fun and have yourselves a wonderful day. :)

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**Chapter 3: I focus, I feign**

The splash of a puddle as I sprint by, an adamant reminder that my shoes will be ruined for the next few days. I could care less as I weave through a bamboo grove following the winding path.

Kami, I am late! An hour late! I have never been late in the month that we have been meeting up, but it is not my fault. Please, blame my boss.

Yes I said it. It is due to the self-entitled absence of one high and mighty individual that this poor salary woman had to stay after office hours converting English words into algorithms that will dictate potential deficit and profit.

A soft cuss escape my lips as I wrench my bag free from a snagged branch.

But why do I bother- my boss has been MIA since day one anyway.

I reach the clearing, expecting the stall to be closed and my ramen buddy gone -

"Yo," he winks at me from his seat as the chef sets down the bowl at my favorite stool.

"Y-you are still here," I blurted out, sliding into my seat as he sips green tea from a ceramic cup.

I begin to apologize for my tardiness but he waves it off snapping his chopsticks perfectly in half with the other hand. Talk about strong. Can people normally do that?

Long story short, we resume our conversations about trivial things. First the composition of ramen, light pollution, the economy, my job, college and then…

"Did you have a crush on anyone during college?" He asks off-handedly.

Sounds like a deep question, but I was too busy fishing with my spoon for ramen leftovers in the sea of soup.

"I never had the time," I mutter nonchalantly, because the best part was finding ramen minnows that escaped earlier during the meal, "math and numbers kept me busy."

It isn't a good excuse, true, but I had to work hard to survive in this economy. I think I did well for a country girl on her own in the big city.

He turns to me with that bright, infectious smile, but there's a softness to it I've never seen until now.

"Do you have time now?" His eyes as soft as a setting sun in the horizon.

"For what?" I ask between chews of my remnant ramen. Delicious!

"For me."

"ACK!"

The soup goes down the wrong pipe and it sends me into a hacking fit. Spasms of cough racking my thin frame as I attempt to salvage my dignity before his unfazed composure. That same mellow smile still plastered on his face. I am unsure what's worse- his watching me unaffected or my hoping he laugh aloud.

I clear my throat for the final time, and then it hits me. The ridiculousness of it all. We just eat ramen together!

"Hahaha! What?" If he isn't going to laugh then I am. "You don't know me," another wave hits me and I'm on the verge of tears, "I don't even know your name!"

"Takechiyo," he quips with his smile unchanged, "Yours?"

"Oh," I wipe the corner of my eye, wary of the absent surname, "….Saigo."

He asks me how my name is written, and since he made me laugh I decide to write it for him. There is no pen so I use the tip of my chopstick and dot the kanji on napkin with soup. There is nothing you can't do with a bowl of ramen.

"Ii namae desu," he nods, tracing his fingers over the soup calligraphy just before his phone goes off. He picks up and murmurs a few words before slipping it back into his pocket. Again, in the distant, an engine roars just like it does on prior nights.

He tells me he has to go, much to my dismay, but that he would like to see me again. Using a different napkin and his chopstick, Takechiyo-san pens some numbers before dashing off.

I sit there with a salty, damp napkin and a ramen cook grinning at me like a moron. What a night.

I read the series of numbers, ultimately deciding to never call Takechiyo-san despite the swing in my feet and warmth on my cheeks.

Come on, we're just ramen buddies.

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**SilverStarlightXD: **Aww thanks- so sweet of you. there's her name now. I do not like this OC, ironic, but that's the beauty of OCs. We don't have to like them :D Let's find out who the gundam-er, engine is though!

**Keys: **Nothing can kill me, I am impervious to all mortal trials and tribulations. My work however, is more fragile than wisps of cotton and if I am to weave a durable sweater out of them they need the time and attention. I'll have a beautiful sweater to present to everyone yet. ;)

**Guest: **thank you for your kind words. I am glad it brings you joy. Let me know how this one goes because I tread some new, deep waters here. I can't swim.


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